


Blessed Protector

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: Blair arrives at the PD to find  that everyone has been called out to a suspected arson case - at Wilkensen Towers.Although this is classified as m/m, it's really pre-slash





	Blessed Protector

Blessed Protector

By Bluewolf

It was a beautiful early winter morning. The sun was shining from an almost cloudless sky, the temperature was an unseasonably high 55 F. Humidity was low and there was just enough breeze to move the air. The two men hiking along the forest trail were finding the conditions as near perfect for the time of year as either could hope for.

It was their last trip away from Cascade for the year. There was some snow on the mountain tops, and the long-term forecast spoke of more to fall in the coming days. Jim's general awareness of his surroundings told him that they would remain free of bad weather for this last day of their long weekend, though he had already suggested that they make the day a short one and head for home mid-afternoon, rather than spend the night at their camp site and head back to Cascade early the following morning as they had originally planned.

Although he was sorry to lose a few hours of their time in the wild, especially since he knew how much it relaxed the constant strain on Jim's nerves, Blair trusted Jim's weather sense and agreed.

And of course Jim was right. Even as they drove home the sky was beginning to cloud over, and as they carried the last of their camping gear into the doorway of 852 Prospect a light rain began to fall.

With everything put away, Blair began to prepare dinner while Jim took the first shower. The one downside to camping at this time of year, he decided, was that there was no fishing; there was no freshly-caught fish for their meal. He either had to take food out of the freezer or settle for pasta. A moment's thought decided him; he took a container of home-made soup out of the freezer, set it to defrost and heat, and began to make cheese sandwiches to go with it. An easy fall-back, but he thought it possible that after a hike (albeit a fairly short one) and a close-on-three-hundred-mile drive, Jim would be glad of a simple, easy-to-eat meal.

They didn't have to report to the PD until one the next day, so they could continue to unwind with a lazy morning - although Blair had a suspicion that Jim would want to spend the morning catching up with housework, and one of them would certainly have to go grocery shopping.

With sandwiches made and the soup continuing to defrost, Blair grabbed a piece of paper and began to compile a shopping list.

***

Blair was right. Next day, Jim decided that housework was the order of the morning, so Blair offered to do the necessary shopping.

He did a quick check that there was nothing Jim wanted to add to the shopping list, then headed off.

It was close on two hours before he finished and headed for home. He half expected Jim to open the door for him, and when it remained obstinately closed, he put down the bags of shopping and groped in his pocket for the key.

There was silence from inside the loft.

Blair moved the shopping inside and looked around. Sure enough, there was a note on the table. Leaving the bags beside the door he crossed quickly to the table and grabbed the note.

"Chief - Simon phoned. I'd have called you, but we need those groceries. Come in as quickly as you can. This sounds bad. Jim."

Blair shook his head. Why did Simon automatically call for Jim?

He took the time to put the groceries away - five or six minutes surely wouldn't make much difference - grabbed his gun and headed out, making sure the door was securely latched. The elevator was still there, but he knew he would be quicker going down the stairs. Once he hit ground level, he ran out to his car, fastened his seat belt, switched on the ignition and took off.

***

At the PD he parked and ran for the elevators. One was there; he hit the button for the seventh floor, hoping nobody between the garage and the seventh floor was wanting an elevator; now that he was here he didn't want to be delayed.

He was in luck, and as the doors opened he rushed out and ran along the corridor to Major Crime.

The room was empty apart from Rhonda.

"Rhonda? I was getting groceries, got home to find Jim had been called in... "

"Yes. Jim said you'd be here as soon as you got his message. It's a bad one, Blair."

"Tell me."

"Wilkenson Tower."

Blair shivered. He still had the occasional nightmare about the place, and never, from choice, went near it.

"It's on fire. The fire department think it's arson."

"Is that where everyone is?" Blair was already turning back towards the door.

"No - Donny and Tom were already out chasing up leads on the case they're investigating. So were Megan and Joel. Simon went, and Jim, Rafe and H. But Blair, Simon said for you to stay here. He needs someone here in case we're called on to follow up on something..."

"I should really be there to help Jim - " Blair began.

"Simon can do that," Rhonda said. "Seriously, Blair, we do need someone on hand. You know what it can be like - even although everyone but Patrol is primarily investigative, one of the departments can be called on suddenly."

"All right," Blair said reluctantly. "The fire department thinks this is arson. Do we know anything else?"

"No, except that the only people in the building at the time were the night watchmen, and they all managed to get out."

Blair nodded. "That's something. So whoever this was didn't necessarily want to kill..."

"Just destroy property - and incidentally the livelihood of a lot of people. I suppose someone might have been trying to... well, coerce 'protection' money from Mr. Wilkenson by threatening to damage his property... and when he didn't pay up..."

Blair thought back to his one encounter with Wilkenson, and the comment Tom Watson, the head of security at the Tower, had made to Jim at that time. 'Mel Wilkenson does not respond to threats.'

"It's possible, but from what I've heard of the man, Wilkenson is more likely to say, 'Do it and be damned to you!' than give in."

He was interrupted by the phone ringing. Rhonda reached for it. "Major Crime... Yes, sir, he's here... What! Is it bad?... Yes, right away." She hung up, looking almost helplessly at Blair. "Jim's been hurt - he's being taken to Cascade General."

"What happened?"

"He's been shot... " Rhonda's voice tailed off as Blair rushed out of the door.

Blair glanced at the signs above the elevator as he reached them. All were on different levels, and one at least was heading downwards. Ignoring them, he ran to the stairs and went down them three steps at a time.

When he reached the parking garage he raced over to his car, for once glad that Jim had persuaded him to get rid of the old Volvo - much as he had liked the old car, his new Volvo, bought when he started working as Jim's permanent, official partner, was far more reliable.

He drove a trifle over the speed limit, but was careful to obey red lights - he didn't need to be delayed by having an accident with a car that was going legally through the intersection on a green light.

It took him a short fifteen minutes to reach Cascade General, and five frustrating minutes more to find a parking space. Grabbing the keys, he pushed them into his pocket as he ran to the entrance.

Just inside, Simon was waiting for him.

He skidded to a halt. "What happened?"

"Someone shot him," Simon said quietly, repeating what Blair already knew.

"How bad?" Blair was already poised to rush on.

"He must have heard something - he dived sideways and the bullet hit his shoulder as he went. Once he was down, he was sheltered by a car, thank goodness. But if he hadn't moved..."

"He was deliberately targeted?"

"Any of the rest of us would have been an easier target - but as far as I could see, there was only the one shot. Brown and Rafe are checking the building the shot probably came from. But Jim's unconscious - could be zoned, but under these circumstances I don't know enough to be sure."

"He's with a doctor?"

Simon grinned. "Dr. Tarrant."

Blair half relaxed. "Of course."

"I think Tarrant would murder any nurse who didn't call him immediately if either you or Jim turns up hurt," Simon murmured.

Blair gave him a half smile. Tarrant's teenage daughter had been grabbed off the street a little over a year earlier; Jim had tracked her down and while Jim dealt with one of the two would-be rapists involved, Blair was hurt, though not badly, rescuing her from the other one. Donna had escaped with nothing worse than a bad fright and her father had appointed himself the primary doctor at Cascade General for her rescuers.

They had given Tarrant a little insight into the sentinel thing, and he was more relaxed than most of the doctors about giving each of them unlimited access to the other any time one of them was hurt, especially once he saw that both somehow recovered faster if the other was nearby.

"Okay - let's get you in to see Tarrant," Simon went on and headed towards the examination rooms. As they reached the reception desk, the girl on duty said, "Room three!"

Blair smiled over at her and if the smile was a little forced, only he knew. "Thanks!" he called back.

When they entered room three, Dr. Tarrant glanced around. "Ah, Blair," he said. "I was surprised when you didn't come in with Jim."

"We were supposed to be off duty this morning - I was out stocking up on groceries when Jim was called in. As soon as I got home and realized where he was, I headed for the PD - I'd just got there when the call came in that he'd been hurt. How bad is it?"

"Not too serious an injury, but I think he's... what did you call it, zoned?"

"I should be able to get him out of it pretty fast." Blair turned to the unconscious figure on the examination table. He gripped Jim's hand and held it to his heart. "Come on, Jim," he murmured. "Wake up and say hello to Phil. He's quite worried about you. You need to wake up so he knows his treatment is working."

Jim groaned softly. "Chief?"

"Yes. Know where you are?"

Jim blinked. "Hospital?"

"Hospital. Someone tried to shoot you, but you managed to duck and he only caught you on the shoulder."

Jim was silent for a moment, before saying, "I heard a click, and somehow I knew... Was anyone else hurt?"

"No."

Tarrant came forward. "So, Jim - how does the shoulder feel?"

Jim forced a smile. "Phil. Sorry to be bothering you."

"Just doing my job. Now answer me; your shoulder?"

"Sore... Is the bullet still in there?" Although he knew it was.

"Yes - I decided to wait till Blair got here before taking you to surgery. You react better to anesthetic when he's there." Even although he was pretty sure Jim had 'zoned', whatever that actually meant, and was unresponsive, Tarrant wasn't convinced that Jim wouldn't somehow be aware of the beginning of the surgical procedure and react to it.

"You mean I don't fight it when he's there."

"Yes. And although he isn't quite as bad, he doesn't fight it when you're there," Tarrant grinned.

"All right, Phil - do your worst," Jim said, his more relaxed smile saying clearly that he was joking.

***

Surgery was as routine as a bullet in the shoulder normally was, and when Jim finally opened slightly unfocused eyes he was in a room with Blair sitting beside him.

Blair grinned down at him. "How does it feel?"

"Numb," Jim said.

"Good - the painkiller's working," Blair replied.

They fell silent, and Jim allowed himself to drift back into sleep. With Blair there he felt safe, and he slept through the twenty-minute visit Simon made.

The evening passed fairly slowly. Blair would have read, at least intermittently, if he'd had anything to read, but he wouldn't leave Jim even for the two or three minutes it would take to visit the hospital shop to get a magazine. Even his trips to the restroom were hurried. He was glad that nobody other than Simon had visited, though he knew they would both be glad to see any of their fellow detectives the following day. But for this evening Blair wanted nobody but Jim beside him, even though Jim was asleep.

Tarrant had left instructions that Blair could use the second bed in the room if he wanted to - knowing that Blair would certainly stay the night - although he was fairly sure that Blair would sit up all night in case Jim needed anything.

Eventually the hospital noises faded; lights (other than the regulation emergency ones) were switched off and in the dimness of the emergency light Blair, after one quick glance at the second bed, settled down in his chair and allowed his eyes to close.

Not that he was sleeping; basically he was just resting his eyes.

He allowed the hospital noises - such as they were after what could be called 'lights out' - to drift past his consciousness.

Maybe he should lie down and at least doze...

Suddenly he became aware of footsteps in the corridor. There was something... a stealthiness... about them that instantly triggered suspicion. Moving very carefully, he got up and slipped behind the curtain that could be pulled around the bed to give its occupant privacy from his room-mate. A moment's consideration made him pull his gun. Peering around the curtain, he saw a figure enter the room. The light shone on something - a syringe? - in his hand. Blair waited until the figure had almost reached the bed, then snapped, "Cascade PD! Hold it right there!"

The figure lunged forward, aiming for the bed; without giving himself time to think, Blair fired, aiming fairly low. The syringe fell onto the bed; the figure collapsed on the floor.

Jim remained fast asleep... probably, Blair thought, still more than a little out of it because of the anesthetic used on him just a few hours earlier.

Blair half ran the dozen steps to the fallen figure and stood, carefully remaining far enough from it that whoever it was couldn't try to make a grab for him, and remained watchful, gun at the ready.

His shot was the disabling one he had intended, he decided as he saw the figure clutching one thigh.

Footsteps came running; a nurse burst into the room. "What... "

"Call the police," Blair said. "A suspected attack on a police officer. And whichever doctor is on duty. This scumbag will need attention."

***

Blair wasn't surprised that the doctor arrived first - he was, after all, in the building. The doctor gaped at the man on the floor. "What... ?"

"Didn't the nurse tell you?" Blair asked.

"She just said a doctor was needed in room 587. I assumed it was a patient having a problem... "

"It would have been if I hadn't been here," Blair said grimly.

"I'll need to get him down to - "

"Not till the police get here," Blair said. "And that, at least in part, is for your own safety. I'm not leaving Detective Ellison unguarded, but I won't leave you unguarded either. I don't know who he is yet - " he still hadn't seen the man's face - "but my guess is that he's the man who shot Jim."

The man raised his head and glared at Blair. "You shot me and now you're denying me medical attention!"

"Not denying you," Blair mildly. The face looked familiar. Just who was it? "Just waiting until the police arrive - which should be any moment now." He glanced at the bed and the syringe lying on it. "You might have a good reason for creeping in here with a syringe holding an unknown substance..." And then the penny dropped. "But first you shot at the man who arrested you three years ago, and why do I think you are responsible for the fire at Wilkenson Tower... Mr. Rachins?"

Rachins tried to lunge at Blair, whether to attack him or get Blair to shoot again and possibly kill him was far from clear, but the obvious sudden agony in his leg when he moved was enough to make him drop back to the floor. And then Blair heard the clatter of running feet and two patrol officers rushed in.

Blair was really glad to see that it was two men he knew well.

"Hi, Bruce, Jack."

"Blair! What's the problem?"

Blair nodded at Frank Rachins. "We'll need to get the contents analysed to be sure, but I had to shoot him to prevent him sticking a syringe containing something unknown, probably harmful, into Jim. Also someone shot Jim yesterday - I'm assuming this is early Wednesday morning now? - and he's suspected of that." He didn't add that it was his own suspicion. "And arson at Wilkinson Tower - and if Rachins wasn't responsible for it, I'll eat one of my shoes. I haven't had a chance to read him his rights yet." He glanced at the doctor. "All right, Doctor - for the moment, he's all yours. Officers Turner and Harper will stay with you; Rachins is under arrest."

Two orderlies arrived with a gurney, and as they lifted Rachins onto it Blair reflected that this was the fastest he would have received treatment anyway. Bruce Turner pulled his gun as he and Jack Harper turned to follow the doctor, who was walking beside the gurney. "Let us know tomorrow how Jim is!" Harper called back and the door closed behind him.

Blair holstered his gun, crossed to the room's sink and took a latex glove from the box on a shelf above it. Slipping it on, he went back to Jim's bed and carefully picked up the syringe.

The door opened again and Simon came in. "Dispatch called me - said there was a problem and the police had been called. Was the problem here?" His tone said 'I know it was'.

Blair nodded. "I think the shooter came to finish the job." He held up the syringe. "We need to get the contents of this analyzed. I had to shoot the guy to stop him. He's with a doctor now - and a couple of cops on guard."

Simon's jaw dropped. "You... you actually shot someone? And Jim - " he glanced at the still-sleeping sentinel - "slept through it all?"

"The weekend off helped a lot," Blair said quietly, "but he still wasn't fully relaxed when we came back. Anyway - the attacker was Frank Rachins."

Simon looked puzzled.

"Galileo," Blair said. "Wilkenson Tower – bullion exchange, three years ago. Jim was the arresting officer."

"Galileo - I remember," Simon said slowly. "But he got twenty years; he should be in Starkville."

"Well, either he escaped or there was some sort of snafu and he got out," Blair growled.

"I'll check that in the morning."

"And this will have to go to forensics to be checked." Blair held up the syringe. "It probably contains some kind of poison. Rachins' fingerprints should be all over it."

"I'll take it in," Simon said. "But we'll need something to carry it in."

Blair reached over and pressed the buzzer for the nurse. When she arrived, they explained what they needed; she nodded, disappeared and returned two or three minutes later with a small container. Blair put the syringe carefully into it, closed it and gave it to Simon.

"I'll come back about nine, and bring some clothes for Jim," Simon said. He'll need them for whenever he's released."

"Thanks," Blair said.

As Simon left, Blair put the latex glove into the disposal unit and went back to his chair. He stood beside it for a moment, looking at the second bed. With Rachins guarded by Harper and Turner, there was probably no more danger - but he was reluctant to move even that far from Jim's bedside. He resumed his seat in the chair, pulling it slightly closer to the bed, and sat for a moment watching Jim's relaxed face. Then his eyes drooped shut and his head sank forward to rest on the bed, and he slept.

***

The early morning noises of nurses moving around woke Blair. He remained unmoving for some seconds, then realized that a hand was resting on his head. He raised it slowly, to look into Jim's half-amused eyes.

"Hi, big guy," he muttered. "How're you feeling?"

"Rested," Jim admitted as he allowed his hand to fall onto the bed. "How about you? You must have been pretty tired to fall asleep... "

Blair grinned. "We had a fairly busy night," he admitted.

"So I heard," said a voice from the door. Phil Tarrant walked in. "A busy night, and Jim slept through it all."

"I - what?" Jim asked, startled.

"I think it was partly the effect of the anesthetic," Blair told him.

"I think you're right," Tarrant agreed. "Anyway, Jim, to cut a long story short - you had a visitor during the night. Blair shot him, and he's currently in a room three floors above this one with a couple of cops guarding him."

"Blair... " Jim looked at the younger man. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine with it," Blair said. "I always knew that I could shoot someone to defend someone else - especially you."

"And in the process he solved the arson case and recaptured a criminal who had been accidentally released," Simon said as he walked over to the bed. He handed the bag he was carrying to Blair.

"Accidentally released?"

"It was a new guard at Starkville, who didn't know the prisoners. Why he was given the job of releasing someone who had come to the end of his sentence hasn't been established, or why the guy who should have been released didn't scream about it when his cellmate was released instead... Anyway, the guy who was mistakenly released was Frank Rachins."

"Galileo... So the arson was revenge?" Jim asked.

"Shooting you was an opportunistic addition to his revenge, but when his shot didn't kill you he decided to come after you again during the night. If Blair hadn't been here... you'd be dead." Simon glanced at Blair. "That syringe held enough poison to kill an elephant."

***

Jim was released later that day, and Blair drove him home. In the loft, Jim sank gratefully onto a couch - amazing how tired he felt! Blair prepared coffee for them both - with the medication he was on, Jim wasn't allowed beer, and Blair decided not to rub that in by having one himself.

With the coffee made, Blair joined Jim, sitting beside him on the side that wasn't injured. Jim dropped his arm around Blair's shoulders. "Whatever would I do without you?" he asked softly.

Blair rested his head lightly against Jim's shoulder; Jim laid his head against Blair's.

"You call me your 'blessed protector'," Jim went on, "but it works both ways. You're my 'blessed protector', and - remember that garbage truck? You saved me before I ever saved you." He turned his head slightly and pressed a light kiss to Blair's forehead.

Blair raised his head a little; Jim bent his, and the next kiss landed on Blair's lips. "My 'blessed protector' - and I love you," Jim murmured.

Blair smiled. "You do?" he asked.

"How could I not love someone who believes in gun control, but would shoot someone to save me?"

Blair's smile widened. "Jim," he murmured. "How could I not shoot someone to save you? I love you, too."

Their lips met again in a long, satisfying kiss.


End file.
